


Starved

by Ivyfics (ivannab)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, talking it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivannab/pseuds/Ivyfics
Summary: Kei can’t make it this week. Next week, maybe, he’ll be here but Tetsurou is all out of patience.Prompt: “I’m tired of being your secret.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> :)

They meet at least one weekend out of the month, always on his end. 

They plan it out, send the schedules and call ahead. When he has the itch to take a train and just go, he squashes it down and walks by the station. Doesn’t bother to check the times to see if he’ll make it before lunch, if they could spend the afternoon together, if they’d play together until they’re sweaty and smiling with exhaustion.  

Maybe Tsukki would be too tired after school and practice and they’d just hang out in his bedroom and chill.

On those days he sends a flurry of messages. Sometimes he gets a response back immediately, sometimes he has to wait until late in the afternoon. 

Tsukki calls at night those days so it’s fine. 

It’s nothing.

* * *

 

It’s a rocky start, Kei being the way he is, Tetsurou being the way he is.

They were friends, he likes to think, before it became a longing to be closer worming it’s way under his skin and fusing to who he is.

_ I want to see him, and talk to him, hear him talk and get lost on how his voice dips and peaks _ — 

Kei’s brother lives in Tokyo. 

He stays there when he comes over, a compromise to keep everyone happy when he’s visiting so often. When his parents call to ask his brother how Kei’s been, he doesn’t have to lie. It’s not easy, even with that. 

They still rely on texts and missed plans when Kei takes a day to spend time with his brother while he’s there. Tetsurou misses the way his fabric softener smells, curled up in his sheets, knowing they’re  _ so close _ , a mere 25-minute bus ride apart when he’s used to measuring distance in days, arms tightening against his own chest instead of the phantom body he wishes was there.

* * *

 

The first visit was where it started.

Stepping off the train with a bag stuffed with extra clothes and headphones still on for the first time, Kei looked at ease. Tetsurou’s hands were sweaty, fidgeting from one foot to the other. His heart felt like it was galloping out of his chest.

It’s been more than several times since then but Tetsurou’s body still takes to that pattern every time. 

The first visit was tragic, filled with awkward silences and strange brushing of hands that made no sense and all the sense in the world, both of them too chickenshit to actually do anything about it. 

They were on the verge, then, standing on the edge and waiting to fall. 

Some days, when Kei cuts their conversations short hastily, someone calling for him over the sound of laughter and yelps he wonders if he was the only one standing.

* * *

 

Kei can’t make it this week. Next week, maybe, he’ll be here but Tetsurou is all out of patience.

The problem, really, is that Tetsurou is not a patient person. He might seem it, with his demeanor, but he’s not, at least not when it comes to boys with snarky smiles that live too far away to have a piece of Tetsurou’s person belong to them. 

Nine weekends have passed in a flurry of calls, texts, and all the things they can do to distract them from the fact that their lives are lived apart and meetings seem to happen only by chance. Infuriating, distracting, anxious, all put in a blender inside Tetsurou’s head going round and round till his brain is mush and he’s bit through his lip. 

He can surprise his boyfriend every once in a while, can’t he?

Tetsurou would be a walking rainbow churning out smiles every thirty seconds if Kei ever decided to come over without calling. Without the planning and the warnings, and  _ the train will be there at five, but Aki has a thing at six that I have to go so let’s meet tomorrow at eight in the park and then—  _

Forgo all kinds of digits and just fucking do. 

Surely, positively, Kei would feel even a slight inch of the same. 

He’d be happy, even if surprises aren’t really his thing, that after missing each other for weeks on end Tetsurou would be a physical body, a chest, an arm, a hand, a hug, a kiss, not a floating head in the digital void that’s Kei’s life. 

Unless. 

Unless Kei prefers him in the void. Unless Tetsurou only exists there for him, doesn’t bleed out into every aspect of his real life, the life he leads on his own. 

That particular thought’s been eating at him and it’s hungry today. Famished, stomach growling and drooling like a beast eyeing its favorite morsel, gnawing at the walls of Tetsurou’s subconscious. Begging for a treat when he’s idle for a moment too long, momentarily shut by a call or a picture sent, like throwing a wolf a cracker and calling it a day.

* * *

 

Bokuto is hogging the ball. Up high and away from where Tetsurou can grab it, staring at him with a frown. “Go see him.”

“I don’t know. He’s busy doing his own thing, it’s why he hasn’t been here,” Tetsurou lies. 

_ I don’t know if he wants me there, I don’t know if he’ll ask me to leave, what if I’m wrong.  _

_ I don’t know.  _

Bokuto brings the ball to his chest and squeezes it between his hands, knuckles going white. “Tetsu, I love you. I really do.”

“Aww, Bo, I lo–”

“But if I have to see your miserable face while staring at his picture when you think we can’t see you one more time, I’ll knock you out and deliver you to Tsukki myself,”  Bokuto breathes out.  

Kenma grunts from where he’s slouched by the shade, gaps between the leaves on the tree he’s leaning on casting pinpricks of light on his face, eyes buried in his game, “I’ll help. Anything to make it stop.”

* * *

 

Tetsurou ignores it.

He ignores it when he throws a bag together, ignores it when he’s stepping through the sliding doors. He ignores the voice telling him he’s not wanted and that he’s making a huge, colossal mistake all the way to the front steps of Karasuno. 

Too restless to wait by the gates until god knows when and too much in knots to not look at Kei in the face where he sees Tetsurou’s here,  he considers waiting for Kei nearby his house before he remembers he doesn’t know where that is. 

Plunging to the deepest of his ribcage, souring the taste in his mouth, he drinks that in. 

He doesn’t know where his boyfriend lives. 

Is he imagining all of this? 

Tetsurou needs to stop thinking about this right now before he spirals. Shaking it off, he heads over to the gym. He’ll peek through a window or something. See them in action, incognito. The chance to get a glimpse of Kei’s playing, of figuring out what that head of his is thinking from the look on his face is too good to pass up. He’s familiar with them now, the way Kei’s body moves from all the times he’s spent analyzing it when they play together. 

Rounding up a corner, he’s almost to the ajar entrance of the gym, blonde hair a beacon on gray walls. 

The look in Kei’s eyes is something he’s never seen before. 

Sheer panic.

“What are you doing here?”

That stings, so Tetsurou coughs and looks away while he composes himself.  “You couldn’t make it, so…”

More time. Tetsurou needs more time to compose himself before coming face to face with Kei. See him from afar first, take his time drinking him in. He gets this instead.

Panic.

Stiff muscles. 

Silence.  

Every tick of the clock is another realization made. 

Kei’s not relieved to see him. There’s not  _ an ounce _ of joy in his body. 

Standing there, squeak of rubber on wood the only thing reaching his ears, it all comes crashing down. The silence growing more awkward by the second is the nail in the coffin. 

What else is there to say? 

“I’m going.” 

That breaks Kei’s vow of silence. “Kuroo. What.”

Tetsurou’s fine. S’alright. Saw this coming. He shakes his head to clear it, “It’s fine. I’m going.” 

Kei speaks, shock not fading, “Where?” 

“Home.” Tetsurou stops. 

Doesn’t want to do this. Really doesn’t. 

_ Should’ve stayed back.   _

He has to now, though. He can’t keep doing this to himself. Gotta look out for Tetsurou. 

So he does what impulse tells him. What that growing voice in the back of his head he’s left to fester whispers at him.

He starved. No more food. 

No matter how much Tetsurou likes him, how much of a head over heels idiot he is, how he's probably in love with Kei. 

“I don’t think you should come by next week. Or at all.” 

Kei freezes, hands gripping the bottom of his white Karasuno shirt. “Why not?”

Tetsurou smiles, trying so very hard to hold all the tiny splinters of him trying their damndest to fall out, but it leaks anyway. How does he put this into words? 

The sinking feeling coating his throat. 

The wanting. 

The waiting. 

“I’m tired of being your secret,” is how he manages to sum it up. 

The door flings open with amazing timing, really, big thanks to whatever being is keeping an eye out on his life for giving him an out to having to look at Kei’s face after that. 

“Oi, Tsukishima, we’re gonna start without you- Ah! It’s Nekoma’s captain!!”

The shrimp is as loud as ever. 

“Sorry,” Tetsurou winces, sends an apologetic look Kei’s way. Having Tetsurou show up here after months of silence must have foiled his plans to keep this quiet.

He turns to Hinata, “Don’t mind me Shorty, just heading out.”

Hinata gasps, not reading the mood or the atmosphere or the plain need to flee on Tetsurou’s face. “You’re leaving! You can’t! Tsukishima, tell him he has to stay and play with us,” Hinata rounds up on him, “I’ll tell Kenma on you!”

“I think you’re too much for me,” Tetsurou laughs, cold sweat running back of his neck.  “Kei,” he says with a nod of his head in farewell because that’s what he calls him when it’s late and they’re missing each other. Or when Tetsurou is missing him, at least. 

There’s a yank on his sleeve, Kei’s fingers gripping the black material tight. “Don’t,” sharper than Tetsurou’s ever heard addressed at him from the boy with golden eyes.  

Whatever’s looking out for him isn’t a powerful being, he understands, so when the rest of the Karasuno crew piles up on the open entrance Tetsurou’s resigned to it all. 

Yamaguchi’s the first one to see him, eyes raised all the way to his hairline. “What’s going on?”

“My boyfriend’s here.” 

Absolute silence.

3, 2, 1.

“This is the boyfriend you skip Saturday practice for?! Sneaky, keeping him all to yourself.”

“Traitor! Dating the enemy!”

“Tsukishima you didn’t need to use your bedroom skills to steal his secrets, the sacrifices you make!”

Having the focus of the entire Karasuno team on you and around you is as terrifying as it sounds. Kageyama crowds him, ball in hand, along with the shrimp. “Kuroo-san, could you run some blocks for us.” 

Behind them, the heckling continues. “You’ve been getting some special training haven’t you?”

It’s crazy. 

Hinata’s voice soars over everyone else’s. “Eeeeeh, Tsukishima are you crying?”

Dread flashes cold. 

“I’m not, short stack. Back off.”

“Liar, your eyes are all shiny.”

Things... take a turn. Get real quiet, real fast. 

Crickets quiet.

Enough to hear the tiniest sniffle quiet. 

Fuck. 

“Everyone,” Ennoshita claps, somehow holding back the tiny libero and Baldie from murdering Tetsurou with their stares, Yamaguchi taking care of the first year duo, “inside.”  

Tetsurou is having a heart attack. This is absolutely what a heart attack feels like. 

When he’s regained the ability to speak, he mumbles, “You skip practice for me?” 

Tetsurou should sound less lovestruck, but it’s been a _day_. His brain is trying very hard to catch up, maximum capacity, whirring and whirling.

Perhaps, perchance, there is a slight possibility that Tetsurou has gotten it wrong. 

Embarrassingly, horribly, amazingly wrong. 

“You didn’t have to. I could’ve come here.”

“They’ll hog you. You think you’re leaving this gym today? Hope you brought sneakers,” Kei glares at him, Tetsurou can feel it, thick swallow audible. Kei is still holding on to his sleeve. 

He takes that as a good sign. 

“We should talk,” Kei says. Tetsurou isn't looking at him but nods anyway. 

Kei leads him by the sleeve of his jacket, silent.

* * *

 

The infirmary is empty so they sit there, side by side on one of the cots.

Kei starts with a shaky breath,“What just happened?”

“Well, your in-house Buddha doesn’t seem to like me all that much.”

Shaking his head, Kei crosses his arms. “I think you were breaking up with me. You thought I was keeping you a secret and were about to break up with me. You actually kind of already did.” 

What does Tetsurou say to that?

_ Ding, ding, ding! Bingo! _

“That’s what it felt like,” he rasps out. “Like you didn’t want anyone to know. About us.”

He doesn’t know where they are, if hugging is allowed. Tetsurou really needs a hug right now. He’s so tired. 

Kei is looking off to the side, avoiding his eyes. 

“If it helps anything at all, saying that was like punching myself. Really hard. I had to, though,” Tetsurou continues, “ you can understand that. I can’t pretend like I’m fine. It hurt.”

Everything is so quiet. They’re never quiet, the two of them, always talking garbage at each other without effort. This is like pulling teeth.

“I was going to wait for you on your way home and I realized I have absolutely no clue where your house is. You don’t let me visit and we meet when you come into town, and if you can’t make it, then we don’t see each other at all. Someone asks who you’re talking to and you hang up.” 

At Kei’s sharp inhale, Tetsurou smiles, “Your friends' voices carry.”

He taps his knee to do something with his hand, building a rhythm. 

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m the only one excited that we’re together. A one-sided relationship won’t make me happy. It’s not something that I’m interested in. Do you care? Do you want to be together? Or is it simply something convenient? After so long I thought you’d be happy that I’m here but you—” Tetsurou’s voice breaks. “Fuck.” 

Kei is slow to speak, awkward and stilted when it starts. They don’t do this kind of talk as often as they should, as it obviously shows. ”I don’t like it when there are people in my business. People around me aren’t exactly the kind to leave this alone, so I thought I’d keep you to myself for a while longer. I’m sorry, I’m not ashamed of you or anything like that.” 

Fingers stop the hand tapping on his knee, bring it over to Kei’s thigh. Pale fingers wrap around his. “I really missed you. You’re important to me. I don’t want to break up,” Kei whispers. 

“I really don’t, either,” Tetsurou whispers back. 

Miraculously, that’s enough for now. Kei’s hand on his and tiny whispers is a full meal, throwing the beast a prime steak.

They whisper a little longer before going silent, full of  _I'm sorry I didn't say anything before_ and _please tell me next time._

Leading him up from their twined hands, Kei pulls him out of the infirmary. “C’mon.”

Tetsurou goes without protest. “We’re ditching?”   


Kei nods. “I’m showing you where I live and then we’re going to make out in my room.”


	2. Parched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So now he’s here, “visiting Aki for a weekend,” getting picked up at the station by no other than Kuroo Tetsurou.  
> For the seven-hundred-thousandth time, he wants to throw up.  
> God help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellow, it's me after seventeen decades, back at it with having no idea what I'm doing. Enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> There are mentions of wanting to throw up ( but not actually any throwing up) so for anyone with emetophobia, proceed with caution?

A train to Tokyo is two and half hours. 

Kei has been nauseous for the last three of them.  

Truthfully, he’s been wanting to keel in front of porcelain ever since _ I’ll be in Tokyo next week.  _

He’s not entirely sure how he got here, uncomfortably cross-legged, metal capsule speeding it’s way to what might turn out to be the most awkward weekend of Kei’s life. 

What was he thinking when he said he’d visit?

Nothing. 

Kei’s brain was blank. 

That’s the only way he can justify the insanity. 

He doesn’t get it. 

Those teen drama shits with their  _ I’m sixteen mom, I’m a grown up!  _

No, when it comes to matters like this even at a ringing and stoic seventeen Kei is a fool. A larvae, if you will. 

This might be his first crush. 

Possibly.

Kei’s cheeks flush against his will, then go pallid when a surge of dread sloshes around his stomach for the four-hundred-thousandth time since his hands betrayed him in cold blood and managed to send _ I’m going to see my brother but maybe we can meet while I’m there.  _

_ Liars,  _ he tells them, staring down into every crevice and line _ , Aki was coming over.  _

The ensuing panic was a crash course in being a human that emotes. It sent him spiraling into the revelation that he does—and very obviously, he might add, recalling Yamaguchi’s teasing—have  _ feelings _ for a certain someone. 

Strong enough panic at the message he, himself, with his very own hands somehow sent, that all he could do was throw his covers and run down the stairs, hand gripping the railing to keep from skidding and breaking his neck (because life isn’t into giving him small mercies), and burst into his mother’s office with a screech of  _ I think I like a boy _ , followed by  _ what do I do!? _ _  
_ His mother laughing at him with teary eyes before picking up the phone to call Aki and stop him from coming that weekend is one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. 

So now he’s here, “ _ visiting Aki for a weekend, _ ” getting picked up at the station by no other than Kuroo Tetsurou. 

For the seven-hundred-thousandth time, he wants to throw up. 

God help him. 

* * *

He steps foot on the platform on a humid Tokyo morning and immediately wants to step right back into the compartment behind him where the air is cool and he’s safe from boys with midnight hair and hearts of gold, boasting broad shoulders and mischief glinting in their eyes.

Two seconds is what it takes,  _ one _ and _ two _ , and he’s falling through the open air of hair mussed like spilled ink on trembling hands, swallowing hard, giving him a smile wrapped in something shy and terrified. Kei relates, every step closer to where his  _ friend-maybe-sort-of-more  _ stands shuffling his weight from one foot to the other, uncertain and eager to turn the other way. Kei tries his hardest to remain calm, or at least pretend to for the sake of whatever dignity he has left, focusing on the tune ringing in his ears and matching every beat to a step closer.

It’s a song of anxiousness and elation. A melody of  _ he’s taller now, I’m an idiot, why do I do this to myself.  _ The music ends, soles of his shoes barely apart in front of thick black boots which are almost enough but not quite to bring a mocking smile to his face seeing as he has to be sweltering in them. 

Kei’s throat is bone dry, tongue too big against the roof of his mouth at the quirked corner of Kuroo’s lips and his hand at Kei’s ears where he pulls the headphones down while Kei does nothing but thirst after warm eyes with an uninterrupted stare and a shut mouth.

* * *

He’s severely acquainted with the feeling of wanting to pay his respects to the porcelain god. Whether the feeling comes from the way his stomach falls when his—and he calls them this outloud reluctantly, under Yamaguchi’s scrutiny and Yachi’s pleading eye—friends holler in, pestering him with raspberries flown his way and invasive questions just the right side of loud enough to be heard through the other end of the line, or the memory of hesitant fingers and soft brushes of lips by lone streets, he’s not quite sure. He’s leaning toward the former the second he slams the red button on the screen after a rushed _ I have to go. _

They do this because,  _ one _ , it’s who they are at their core; a messy, loud group of boys crowing about. 

And  _ two _ … 

Well, because Kei has a boyfriend he skips their Saturday practices for but refuses to share a picture of,  and that’s perfect ammunition for gossipy single teenage boys to do their worst. 

He won’t tell who, which is bound to come out eventually, but he doesn’t want to deal with that right now. 

They’ll be all wiggling eyebrows and wolf-whistles. There’ll be elbow nudges, winks, and volleyball innuendos and he has enough of that in his life dating Kuroo, thank you very much. 

They’ll hound for extra training and to have him come down to help, and when Kuroo goes to cheer on Nekoma it’ll be this big ball of weird looks and support. 

At the end of the day, he just doesn’t want to share Kuroo with anyone else here.    


* * *

 

He packs his bag for another overnight excursion with equal parts of annoyance and excitement. Excitement because he gets to see Kuroo as soon as tomorrow afternoon. Annoyance because he has two assignments he needs to get done, three chapters of a book to read, plus a worksheet to cram into a weekend away from home. It’s inconvenient to have to carry all of it with him, but it’s either that or cutting the first weekend-visit in two months short. 

Everything would be so much simpler if he could see Kuroo and not have to transport half his textbooks with him every time. He knows there’s a solution for that particular problem. The screen of his phone is mockingly dead while the logical part of his brain tells him to not be an idiot and text his boyfriend to come see him tomorrow at the latest. Kuroo would because he’s not an inconsiderate ass. He’d leap on whatever transport of his choice to come down the second Kei voiced an invitation.

Kei’s eyes fall on the dinosaur figurines that have lined his shelves since he was twelve, then to the small stuffed bear he’s had since he can remember tucked in the corner where his bed meets the wall and immediately shuts that train of thought down. 

The problem here is not Kuroo. The problem is not the ride, or the packing, or the homework. 

It sounds like a problem young girls have in after-school specials, the ones where they don’t want to be kids,  _ I want to be all grown up _ , and it escalates until they do something stupid and their parents have to sit them down and tell them to be their age,  _ youth happens only once.  _

It is a problem because there’s a tiny little part in the back of his head that relates to that even though the smart part of him tells him to stop. That it doesn’t really matter, does it, when his boyfriend is just as green as he is and an even bigger dork, that there’s nothing to worry about. Then he sees a photo of Kuroo out and about with his college friends, and his occasional parties and his college classes and a whole separate life, and suddenly it’s the sort of problem that brings back that swirling in the pit of his stomach. 

It’s that he has an  _ older  _ boyfriend that lives miles and hours and calls away, in a city of several million people who are  _ more _ . They are closer, kinder, easier with words and harder to annoy. They are a bus ride and not a train, a warm body and not cold-hard pixels on a screen. 

They don’t have uniforms and a set schedule and high school classes. It makes him afraid to be too much. Too eager, too clingy, too much of something Tetsurou’s already left behind. 

He called him that last night, hazy with sleep and longing as an inhibitor. His tongue wrapped around a  _ Goodnight, Tetsurou  _ before his vocal cords could shrivel with fear, getting a sweet  _ Goodnight, Kei _ in return and biting down a smile for the rest of the night. 

It drives him to turn as to not look at his phone where it lays on his desk, away from the temptation of being an inconvenience—a word he rebels at, violently disagrees with in the part of his brain that thinks things straight. The part of his brain that thinks is not the one in charge though, so he settles for a night of cramming as much as he can after his bag is packed. 

Kei wants to  _ be _ more. He wants…

He wants another sip and an extra gulp, a second glass, and a third refill. 

Kei wants that icy drop running down the glass when the sun scorches through the desert but he manages with a tight lip and a hard, dry swallow.

* * *

He can’t skip Saturday practice anymore; they need as much fine tuning as they can get. Kei has had an unfair advantage having a bi-weekly practice with Fukurodani’s and Nekoma’s captains, both current and previous, even if the cats are tight-lipped when it comes to their team. Karasuno wants to be great, wants another  _ Battle at the Garbage Dump, _ a rematch to sweep in for the kill. 

Ennoshita has made it very clear he’s counting on Kei with steady eyes and that no-nonsense tone of his, calm even when Tanaka is running wild in the background until that deadly, freezing stare comes out. 

Kei wants it. He wants that rush again. It won’t be the same, not when Kuroo isn’t at the other side of the net watching him like he’s prey, both of them trying to up one another with the strongest team at their back, but there’s no lack of good players in Nekoma. Kuroo’s absence won’t make it easy, not when Karasuno has its own losses to make up for. 

Not when the road to another battle is riddled with opponents who are strong. 

Between that and an increased workload visiting is not a thing. 

Nishinoya does it in the quietest manner he’s ever done anything. It’s been six weeks since he took a stroll down the small street that leads to the park where they toss a ball around, since he last pet Kuroo’s fat fluffy cat when he chose to sit in Kei’s lap—it’s obvious enough that Nishinoya comes up to him when they’re having a small break and asks if he’s sad, if he wants to talk. 

That he has his own long distance woes to deal with so he can be a shoulder to lean on if necessary, let him be a proper upperclassman to Kei for once. 

He’s a second from puking all the things that keep him from telling Kuroo that he misses him like crazy and  _ to please come down so I can see you, even if it’s just a little, you wanted to see if you can grow a beard and I want to see that disaster in person before you come to your senses and shave it off—  _

The words die on his tongue, arid, throat withered.

* * *

“You should tell him,” Yamaguchi says, knees bumping against his under the low table they’re using, “just tell him to visit. Or that you’re lonely. If you tell him you’re lonely he’ll be here without you ever asking.”

Kei doesn’t stray from the line he’s reading, even if the words don’t register after the third time he’s gone over it. “I’m not lonely. You’re here, aren’t you?”

Yamaguchi doesn’t look up from his paper, pencil scratching the paper. “It’s okay to miss someone even when you have company. People aren’t interchangeable.” 

Their voices are quiet, not interrupting the calm mood they’ve fallen into since coming up to Yamaguchi’s room. Kei’s nose scrunches, not wanting to have the same conversation for the third time that month. “That just seems rude.” 

Yamaguchi chuckles, reaching out to grab the eraser on Kei’s side of the table. “So be rude, it’s not like it’s new to you.”

_ I don’t want to be a bother. What if he comes down here and figures it out? It won’t be forever, just a little more— _ “I am the picture of politeness and good manners.”

Yamaguchi laughs, “Whatever you say, Tsukki.”

It seems like that’s that, but he knows better. They go back to the quiet of books and bullet points until Yamaguchi can’t hold it anymore and throws the eraser at his face, hitting him square on the cheek. “I still think you should tell him.” 

* * *

When it comes to one particular set of hazel eyes, Kei’s calm demeanor doesn’t exist. It crumbles in the wake of that old feeling that resides in his gut. With enough time to get intimately acquainted with it, become its friend, and steel against it so that he doesn’t make a fool out of himself. 

When it catches him out of the blue, it makes him panic. Negates all that work Kei puts into being unreadable. 

“What are you doing here?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Kuroo deflates visibly, throat bobbing and eyes going soft in a way that makes Kei want to bite his tongue and snatch his words out of thin air. 

He freezes. The conversation—if it can be called a conversation when all Kei does is stutter things that make Kuroo’s eyes look progressively duller—moves like a dream. He’s aware of it but not really. It’s like his brain is rebooting all the way up to when he mumbles, “My boyfriend’s here.”

Noise is expected; It’s Karasuno. It roars around him and evolves in the way he thought it would.What he doesn’t expect is the realization of what just happened. 

_ “I don’t think you should come by next week. Or at all.” _

_ “I’m tired of being your secret.” _

It slams into him and leaves him reeling because Kei is smart, he’s clever and shrewd and he’s an idiot. A bumbling idiot who is barely holding back tears— _ crying, _ of all the things he could and should be doing—in front of a crowd. 

_ Oh shit.  _

_ Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit—  _

_ You knew this was going to happen calm down. _

He doesn’t get a hold of it fast enough. Hinata is excited, but not shocked. He knows already, this is not news. He and Kenma are close enough that he’s in on this, close enough that he manages to pick up on the lack of excitement coming from Kei with a humiliating,  “Eeeeeh, Tsukishima are you crying?”

Oddly enough, it’s what calms him down enough to reassess.  “I’m not, short stack. Back off,” he snaps back.

“Liar, your eyes are all shiny.”

It stops everyone in their tracks. The air sours around them, becoming awkward and stagnant until Yamaguchi has led the last of the first years back inside. Kei takes a breath, then another. He’s angry. Angry at himself for getting emotional, for hurting Kuroo. Vexed at the sappy, hopeful look Kuroo throws his way, and at the way his chest expands and feels the hurt lessen in response. 

Whoever invented feelings is an asshole.

* * *

 

Walking up the stairs with Kuroo’s hand held in his is weird. It’s strange, uncanny, and comforting. Making out with Kuroo is a lot less strange and a lot more comforting, especially when it comes after that painful talk in the infirmary. 

That’s… 

Kei’s not feeling so good about that. He gets it, when it comes down to it you don’t let someone keep hurting you if you can help it. He can respect that even when Kuroo’s words buzz around his head as they kiss. The warmth of Kuroo next to him is grounding but it doesn’t stop his head from thinking about the issue over and over. 

Kuroo is an idiot, but so is Kei. The difference between them is that Kuroo is an idiot because he’s too nice, and Kei is an idiot because he’s a coward. 

Kei wants to be selfish. Desperately want to do as he pleases without worrying about things like,  _ is it too much to ask?  _

He wants to be as stupid as a seventeen-year-old is when they have someone they like. Maybe not as stupid as anyone, but as stupid as he can get. 

Kei pulls away from Kuroo’s lips, from the hand on his neck that’s holding him so gently, and tumbles backward so that his back lays flat on the bed. His arms come to cover his face as he builds up enough courage to say what he wants to say. He clicks his tongue at himself, frustrated, and goes for it.

“You know how people say ‘a couple of years won’t matter when you’re older’?”

Kuroo doesn’t seem to have shaken off the kisses yet, his response slow. “Yeah?”

“We’re not older.”    


Kei doesn’t give him much but he gets there, fingers coming out to touch gently on the arm still covers Kei’s face. “Two years is nothing,” his voice is nothing but soft. It should be comforting. It should reassure him. 

All it does is make his irritation peak. 

“In the grand scheme of the expanding universe and the void that surrounds it, sure,” he retorts, bitter and sarcastic. 

Kuroo sighs and mimics Kei’s pose on the bed, both of them staring at the ceiling. “What can I do? I want to say the right thing but—I don’t know.”

“Aren’t inspiring and heartfelt speeches supposed to be your thing, Captain?”

“I have several speeches popping up, but I don’t know if they’re the right thing to say.”

“Go for it, it can’t make things worse.”

Kuroo chuckles, slamming his pointy nose into Kei’s collarbone with a groan. “Way to jinx me, asshole.”

Kei huffs, amused, “Reassuring your boyfriend by calling him an asshole is such a not-dick move. I’m touched.” Suddenly he’s the one groaning, hand coming up to rearrange his glasses where they haven’t moved. They’ve started to fall back into their banter, that back-and-forth that Kei’s comfortable with. “Is it terrible that you calling me an asshole made me feel better?”

“Yeah. Not for me, low standards mean I have fewer chances of fucking up. For you? Do better.”

They lay there in silence while the sun begins its descent outside and it seems like that's the end of it, but just like with Yamaguchi, Kei knows better. 

“Is being not-older yet what makes you pull away?”

Kuroo’s not going to let it go. Kei has given him an inch and he’s going to tug and pull at it until it’s all out there. It’s uncomfortable. Itchy, scratching his throat with every word he should be saying but is not. Kuroo is—he’s Kuroo, letting Kei stay silent for a little longer. 

He settles in closer at Kei’s side until they’re basically cuddling with Kuroo’s arm around his chest. The shift in the mood is sudden. The light is low and they’re close together talking about their feelings, their  _ relationship _ . It’s an intimacy they don’t get to have often, a very real thing they try to replicate with voices in their ears trough phones at night. 

Kei melts into it, letting his eyes close and enjoying how he can feel Kuroo’s voice next to him. 

“You asked to say something sooner, before. In the infirmary. I’m going to ask the same thing. This is probably the worst timing in the world to say this but—”deep breath— “I love you.”

His eyes snap open and it’s like he’s back on that train, going to Tokyo to meet with a boy for the first time, feeling like he’s two seconds away from throwing up. This is big.  _ Big _ -big. 

“So I don’t want to break up. I wanna work on this, and—you have panic-face again.” 

Kei tries to swallow. “It’s. A lot.”

“I know.”

“A lot, a lot.”

“ _ I know. _ ”

Kei hesitates, “I don’t…”

Kuroo’s face is buried in his shoulder, the tip of his ear glowing red. He’s embarrassed, or nervous—both completely understandable seeing as Kei would be choking on his own words trying to pull off something like what Kuroo just did. Conversations like this don’t come easily to them. They’ve relied on body language and gestures, inference and subtext. 

But they’ve already conquered one of these today, and they’re nothing if not fast learners, so Kuroo powers through whatever mountain of emotions he’s currently climbing. “You don’t have to say it. You don’t have to be there yet, either. I just want you to be in this.” 

Kuroo burrows deeper into the crook of his neck. The skin of his cheek is hot, and if Kei could see it, redder than his ears. The words are mouthed to the side of his neck, pleading. “Don’t leave me hanging ‘cause you’re scared. I’m scared, too.” 

Kei feels like crying again, a little. Not enough to have his eyes water but enough to feel that knot in his airway. It’s hard but easy, mostly because Kuroo stepped up and meeting each other’s challenge is how they are.

Saying it out loud feels a lot like what he imagines pulling teeth is like. 

“You’re going to realize I’m—” he pauses, steeling himself—”this is too much work, and find someone who is easier to be with. Someone who is better for you.” 

He’s so embarrassed the second after it leaves his mouth.  He glares at the ceiling to make up for it, eyes narrowing even further when Kuroo pulls away to look at him. 

Before he can do anything else, Kuroo looms above him, caging him in with his arms. “I don’t know about better but I want _ this _ . You.”

His hand grabs Kei’s chin, gentle but with purpose, and brings him to meet hazel eyes. Kei feels every ounce of his inexperience in the breath he lets out when it happens, at the flash of a smirk that passes over Kuroo’s face before he schools it down and then back up. “Whatever work you think you are, you’re worth all of it. I’ll work my ass off for you. The thing is, you have to let me.”

Kei teeth find his lip, everything a little too much. He feels the flush on his cheeks while his heart pounds away and he bites down harder. Kuroo stops him with his thumb before his breath hits Kei’s lips, whispering, “Let me.” 

He feels it in every kiss after that. 

The wanting.

The waiting. 

They stop when they can’t see each other anymore and Kuroo bumps into his nose, then his glasses. It’s the perfect way to remind him that Kuroo is a dork that also has no idea what he’s doing half the time. 

Kei drinks him in. He’s bound to mess up again, eventually, because Kei is not perfect. For now, Kuroo’s perpetually terrible hair and his dopey smile at seeing the inside of Kei’s room in something that is not the background of video calls and pictures is enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki's mom when she arrives: ?????Who is this boy in my house, oh honey is this the one you—  
> Tsukki, at Kuroo: you need to leave right now immediately 
> 
> Going back to my roots of showing both sides with a little extra. This was marked as 3 chaps but I decided to make that third chap a different thing so it's done now. Come to softly yell at me: [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)  
> [Tumblr ](http://ivyfics.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Teens are very dramatic. Also, hey, I started another multichapter because I have no self-control. 
> 
> You can come yell at me on:  
> [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)  
> [NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/lilacsparklr)  
> [Tumblr ](http://ivyfics.tumblr.com/)


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